The Transall Saga (10 page)

chapter
31

"What is the matter with you, Kakon? You do not seem like yourself today." Dagon was putting the finishing touches on a new crossbow. "You have nothing to be anxious about. The feasting begins tonight. And the Merkon’s messenger has sent word that the Overlord will arrive tomorrow in time for the games."

"I’m not anxious. I was just thinking." Mark scraped the shaft of an arrow. "Dagon, I’ve been curious. Who is this Merkon? Does he come from another Tsook tribe?"

"The Merkon is the leader of all Transall. He lives across the great river and is coming many miles to meet you."

"Why would he do that? Why would he travel here to watch my ceremony?"

"The Overlord was invited and chose to come. That is all I know. We have not seen him on this side of the river in years. He always sends an emissary to collect our tribute. It is a great honor that he wishes to visit us in person."

"Maybe he’s coming to check up on you, Dagon. You know, make sure you’re doing things the way he wants."

"There is no need. We are only a small village on the outskirts of many others that are much larger. And we pay our tribute each year. The Merkon would not waste his time checking on us."

Mark sat back. "Are you telling me there are bigger towns than this one?"

"Of course. The Tsook are more numerous than the stars. Unfortunately, there are also many tribes of nonpersons in Transall. It will take time but we will conquer them all."

"Is this the Merkon’s plan?"

"In the time before the Merkon, even the Tsook fought among themselves. The land was constantly at war. Now we are united under his leadership and peace is more common."

"Kakon." Barow stuck his head out the door. "Megaan and Leeta have something they want to show you."

Mark set his arrow on the ground. "What is it?"

"You will not be able to see from there," Megaan shouted. "Come inside."

Mark stepped across the threshold and stopped. The girls were holding up a brand-new set of clothing made of soft off-white leather with long fringe on the sleeves.

"We made them for your ceremony, Mark," Leeta said proudly. "Do you like them?"

"Of course I did all the sewing," Megaan’s grandmother said smugly. "These silly girls would never have gotten it right on their own."

Mark touched the new clothes. "I’ve never had anything so nice. I don’t know what to say."

"You could say thank you," Megaan teased. "Unless those words are too hard for an important warrior to say."

"Unlike some people"—he made a face at Megaan—"I can say thank you ... all."

"You’d better hurry home and get ready." Megaan put the buckskins in his hands and pushed him out the door. "We cannot have you embarrassing us at the feasting."

Dagon grinned at him. "It is a dangerous thing to have women sew for you, Kakon. Next thing you know they will be telling you to take a bath. "

"In my case that might not be such a bad idea." Mark picked up his arrow. "Thanks for the carving lesson, Dagon. I’d better do as she says and go get ready."

People waved and called to him as he walked down the road. The same women who had stared scornfully when he was shuffling along in chains now offered him fresh bread. He was living the life of a celebrity and it was tempting to stay here forever.

Leeta had declined his offer to go back to the jungle with him. The few who were left in her tribe were now slaves of the Tsook and she wanted to stay with them. He understood. Family was important. He had lost sight of that once but he wouldn’t let it happen again.

The festivities were supposed to last through the night and most of the next day. After that, things would settle down and then he would be on his way. No one would question him and no one would come after him. He was an equal, allowed to go wherever he pleased.

In his cabin Mark heated some water and washed the grime off his body before he put on the new buckskins. They fit perfectly. He put on his claw necklace and tied his long hair back with a piece of leather. Megaan would not be able to find any fault with him tonight, he thought, then wondered at the thought—wondered why he cared. Megaan?

A horn blew and drums started pounding. It was beginning. For some reason he felt nervous. He checked himself over, from his bare feet up to the fringe on his shirt.

The door opened and Sarbo stepped in. "You look very fine, Kakon. The festivities are starting and no one will eat without the guest of honor. Come."

"I was just on my way." Mark followed him out the door and up the street. Near the center of town, tables and benches had been set up and the tables were piled high with food. Torches with bunches of flowers tied to them lined the road.

Dagon motioned for Mark to come to the head table. Sarbo sat beside him and whispered, "They have outdone themselves for you, Kakon. This is far better than any ceremony I have ever seen."

The tower guard blew the alarm. It was quickly followed by one long calming note.

Dagon stood. "Apparently our guests are early. Come, Kakon. We will go to meet them."

Mark followed Sarbo and Dagon to the edge of the village. It was almost dark and hard to make out the faces of the approaching strangers.

Nearly fifteen riders stopped in front of them. They wore a crude armor that reminded Mark of the kind he and Tybor had been working on. The leader wore a lightweight metal headdress that masked the top part of his face. He was unusually tall.

"Welcome," Dagon bellowed. "Welcome to the great Merkon and his friends. We are honored to have you visit our small village. You are just in time. The feasting is about to begin."

One of the front riders spoke. "The Overlord wishes to see the one you call Kakon."

Mark stepped forward. "I am Kakon."

The man in the mask stared down at him through tiny slits in the metal. No one moved or said anything. Finally the Merkon raised his hand. The front rider got down and held the reins of the Merkon’s beast.

The Overlord dismounted and turned to Dagon. "Let the feasting begin."

Sarbo showed the riders where to put their mounts and Dagon led the Merkon to the tables, boasting about Mark’s heroic deeds all the way.

When they were seated, the Merkon questioned Mark. "Tell me why. Why would a slave risk his life for the people who captured him?"

Mark answered honestly. "It was not an easy decision. I considered saving only myself. But it didn’t seem right to let everyone else die."

"Perhaps you only wished to be rewarded?"

Mark’s eyes narrowed. He answered evenly, "Perhaps."

The Overlord smiled and reached for a piece of roasted meat. "I think I like you, Kakon. You are not only brave, you are intelligent. You will make a fine warrior."

Mark wasn’t hungry. The Overlord’s strange behavior had taken away his appetite. He looked down the table. Megaan was sitting with a group of her friends, laughing and having a good time.

The rest of the Tsook were already caught up in the festivities. The children were playing a game of tag and their laughter filled the night air.

"I think I forgot something back at my cabin," Mark said to Dagon. "I will be right back."

He left quickly before anyone could protest. The party was for him, but strangely he didn’t want it. He just wanted to be alone. The Overlord made him feel uncomfortable. Something about the man was all wrong.

The embers of a fire were still glowing in Mark’s cabin. He sat on his sleeping mat without bothering to light a candle.

"What’s the matter with you?" he whispered to himself. The fire sputtered and a spark shot out on the swept dirt floor.

Mark stared at the ceiling. He knew the answer. The real truth was that he was going to miss this place. It had been the only real home he’d had in more than two years.

The door opened. "Kakon? What are you doing here?" Megaan asked. "The stories have started. You should hear Sarbo. He is telling of the time he single-handedly fought off an entire den of the Woompass devils."

"That sounds like Sarbo. You go on back. I’ll be along."

"Are you sick?"

"No. Don’t worry about me. I said I would be there."

Megaan stepped closer. "I am not going until you tell me what is wrong."

Mark looked up at her. She had a large red flower in her hair and it was the first time he had ever seen her in a skirt. "You look nice, Megaan. It was good of you to get all dressed up just for me."

"Ha! You are so arrogant. If you were a true Tsook you would know that it is customary for the chiefs daughter to ..." She stopped. "No, I know what you are up to. You are not going to make me angry tonight no matter what you say."

"What if I told you that I am leaving the village after the ceremony tomorrow?"

Megaan bit her lip. "What do you mean, leaving? You will be coming back, will you not?"

Mark shook his head. "Remember when I told you about the place I came from and the light that brought me to Transall? I have to find that light. As you just said, I am not a true Tsook. My people are waiting for me on a different world. I have no choice but to try to go back."

"You have a choice." Megaan marched to the door. "Go back, then. Take your stupid slave girl with you. I do not care. I am sorry I ever knew you."

Mark watched her stomp out the door and spoke quietly in the darkness. "I think I’m going to miss you too, Megaan."

chapter
32

The evening seemed to wear on forever.
Mark returned to the celebration and Barow insisted that he tell the story of the Howling Thing, even though the little boy had already heard it a dozen times.

Dagon told the story of finding Mark pinned down behind his dead beast, loading his last arrow, ready to die for the Tsook. This brought the people to their feet, yelling and praising their young guest of honor.

The Merkon still made Mark feel uncomfortable. Every time Mark looked at the man he found a pair of cold dark eyes inspecting him.

The storytelling and feasting lasted until late. The smaller children had to be carried home and put to bed and some of the men went with them. Other men drank so much they fell asleep at the tables.

Mark found his way back to his cabin and tried to sleep but tossed and turned for hours. It seemed he had just fallen asleep when he awoke with a start.

The Merkon was sitting at his table watching him. "I hope I did not disturb you, Kakon."

"No ... no." Mark blinked and sat up. "I was just taken by surprise a little, that’s all. I am not used to people coming into my house unannounced."

The Merkon’s lips went white. His eyes seemed to flash beneath the mask. "You are not afraid of me, are you?"

"Should I be?"

"It might be wise. I could easily order your head sliced off and fed to the beasts of the forests." Two of the Merkon’s men stood in the doorway. The Overlord waved them away. "Wait outside."

He turned to Mark. "I understand you are interested in finding a certain light. A light with great power."

Mark stood and walked cautiously around the table. "How do you know this?"

"I make it my business to know everything that goes on in Transall."

"Then you know why I have to find it."

The Merkon tapped the table. "I have been told that something has happened to you to make you believe that you are not from our world and that the light is the way out."

Mark folded his arms. "I do not believe it—! know it."

The Merkon studied him. "Dagon speaks highly of you. For this reason, I have decided to help you. After the ceremony you will travel with me to Trisad. There is an old shaman there. If anyone knows of your light, it will be he."

The Merkon moved to the door, his breastplate clanking and his long cape of skins flowing behind him. "We will leave tomorrow." The tall man pulled the door shut behind him.

Mark dropped to the bench. This put a new twist on things. The Merkon made him feel uneasy. Mark really didn’t want to travel anywhere with him and his army of stone-faced bodyguards. But what if this was the same shaman Leeta had told him about? It might be the only real lead he would ever get. He had to go.

His mind was made up. He washed the sleep out of his eyes and stepped outside.

Sarbo was waiting for him, mounted, holding the reins of Mark’s gray beast. "Get on, Kakon. Did I not tell you that the race would begin the first thing this morning?"

"You told me. But after last night I didn’t think anybody would be too serious about it. Especially you. Didn’t I see you fall asleep in your bowl?"

Sarbo stiffened. "I was only resting. If you had not left the feasting when you did, you would have seen that I got my second wind."

"Sure. And what did you do then? Stumble home to your wife?"

"Kakon, if you were older, I would ..."

Mark laughed. "Then I guess it is a very good thing that I am not."

Sarbo threw the reins at him. "Get on your mount. After I trounce you soundly in this race perhaps you will show a little more respect for your betters."

"What if I win?"

"You? That is a great joke. You hardly know how to sit on a beast."

"Then let’s make a wager," Mark said confidently. "If I beat you, you will give me your ... new sword."

"Ha! And when I win, you will give me that necklace you are so proud of."

"Done." Mark swung up on his mount and followed Sarbo down the road.

Mark was surprised to find almost every man in the village on mounts, gathered near the buffalo pens. Even some of the Merkon’s men were entering the race.

Dagon climbed a corral fence and stood on the top rail. "You will race up the valley to the large sand blossom tree. There Tybor will be waiting with a basket of pagoma fruit. Place a piece of fruit in your teeth and race back. The first man to pass me still carrying the fruit will be declared the winner."

The villagers lined the beginning of the route. Mark spotted Leeta and Barow waving at him. Megaan wasn’t with them.

Dagon continued. "When you hear the horn the race will begin. "

The riders moved into position. Mark found himself between a stranger and Sarbo. He turned to his teacher. "Good luck."

"You are the one who needs luck, Kakon. Get ready to lose your precious necklace."

The horn blew and fifty beasts thundered down the valley, leaving the spectators in a cloud of choking red dust.

Sarbo’s animal pulled slightly ahead of Mark. Mark held on with both hands and urged his beast to move faster.

The road was a blur. The animals plowed up the ground, fighting for the lead. A black beast cut in front of Mark and he had to pull up.

Something rammed into his back, knocking him off balance. He grabbed frantically for the mane. His animal kept running and Mark could feel himself slipping. With all his strength he held on, wrapping one arm around the beast’s neck.

Inch by inch he lost control, until he went over. His hand was still tangled in the mane when his feet hit the ground, where he flopped around like a rag.

The black animal that had cut him off was now practically on top of him. The rider pulled up beside him, crushing him against his mount’s belly before veering off.

Mark’s arm felt as if it would rip loose. He called to the beast to stop but the animal only ran faster, its hooves clipping Mark’s side with each stride.

Using his free hand, Mark groped for the reins. His fingers found them and he yanked, sawing on them until the animal finally stopped, its sides heaving.

The race was still in progress. Mark clawed his way back onto his beast and kicked it back into action. Riders were passing him on both sides. Ahead he could see the sand blossom tree. Tybor was standing under it hurriedly passing out the pagomas.

Mark slid to a halt and waited for Tybor to get over to him. The smith tossed him a piece of yellow fruit. Mark put the small end in his mouth. There was no way he could win the race now but he was determined not to finish last.

He yelled encouragement to his beast and kicked as hard as he could. The gray lunged down the track. It moved even with a group of riders, then slowly pushed past them.

In the distance Mark could see Dagon standing on the rail fence. The gray beast crossed the finish line just ahead of the final group of riders.

Mark spotted Sarbo. He spit out the pagoma and walked his mount over to him. "I guess you beat me. You want the necklace now?"

Sarbo threw his hands up. "I would be glad to take it except for the fact that the fruit dropped from my mouth and I was disqualified. So it is I who have lost the bet."

Mark shook his head. "We’ll call it even, then."

The last rider had crossed the line and Dagon wa announcing the winner. Sarbo looked disgusted. "Ha! Do you see that? The winner is Narqua. I beat him back here by a mile. If only I hadn’t opened my mouth when I neared the finish."

The crowd cheered the announcement and congratulated the young man. Dagon clapped him on the back and presented him with a wreath of woven leaves.

Several animals filed by, heading back toward the village. Mark noticed one in particular, a large black.

"Sarbo. Who is the rider of that black?"

"I do not know. He is not from here. The Merkon brought him. Why do you ask?"

"During the race it felt as if someone pushed me off my mount. And when I was down, that rider tried to trample me."

Sarbo cocked his head. "This is your first race, Kakon. In the past I have seen riders become very reckless. One time a contestant was dragged to death. These things happen. You must not take it personally."

"Everything happened so fast, but I guess you have a point. But what could have hit me hard enough to knock me off?"

Sarbo laughed. "The way you ride, I would say it was probably a feather."

"Very funny." Mark put his heels to his mount. "Maybe you would like to make a wager on the next game?"

"Be careful, Kakon. The next time you may not be so lucky."